Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

The shattered winter snow kingdom was filled with terrifying spatial collapse forces surging like a tidal wave, emanating from every fallen shard, and the inky black marks shattered the vast platform space into pieces.

The strings of the law snapped, producing a silent lament.

Every dark mark is a wound in the world, greedily devouring light and warmth.

Dago is probably the only intact thing in this "shattered" place.

He stood at the center of the turbulent flow, his black hair dancing wildly, his eyes transforming into the most sophisticated instruments.

He watched as Gehrman's body shattered into countless pieces, then quickly coalesced, only to shatter again.

Silvery particle streams weave through the dimensional gaps, attempting to reconstruct the logic of flesh and blood.

In a space almost entirely dominated by pitch black, Dargo suddenly reached out and seemed to grasp something amidst a patch of shattered, shimmering silver light.

The pure black lightning was no longer a shield, but fangs tearing through reality.

The demon's claw probed into the void, its fingertips touching the only, rapidly rotating physical coordinate.

When all the splendor faded, there was no trace of ice, snow, or thunder left on the platform. It was as calm as if nothing had ever happened, with only Dago standing quietly in the center of the platform.

He raised one hand, his fingers tightly clasping a slender figure that appeared rather thin compared to him.

Gehrman's limbs hung limply, like a swan with a broken neck being lifted up by a hunter.

The protective barrier shattered like glass, and the crystal fragments rapidly sublimated in the air.

"you!"

Gehrman's face was grim, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

His pupils contracted sharply, reflecting the massive, dark, and menacing hand.

He looked at Dago in disbelief, then his gaze slowly moved down—an arm, muscular and crackling with pure black lightning, like a demon's claw, was deeply embedded in his body.

There was no gushing blood, only the piercing hissing sound produced by the friction of energy.

Inside his body, a triangular prism that was constantly rotating and emitting a faint silver light was being tightly gripped by the five fingers of that hand.

Tighten your fingers.

It creaked.

It's like a hydraulic clamp gripping a precision gear, forcibly halting its operational logic.

A tremendous sense of tearing and pulling emanated from the depths of his soul, giving Gehrman a dizzying feeling.

The framework of the world began to distort and double in Gehrman's eyes.

Logical thinking breaks down, leaving only the fear and trembling of biological instinct.

Despite the discomfort, Gehrman's lips moved slightly as he tried to recite the spell again.

This is a spellcasting instinct ingrained in one's bones, even when the soul is already restrained.

Ancient syllables rolled in his throat, trying to mobilize the remaining elemental factors around him.

At that moment, a calm voice brought him to an abrupt halt.

"It's over, Gehrman."

With a sudden burst of force from his five fingers, black lightning erupted from his palm.

The prism stopped spinning abruptly, its light dimming as if a candle flame had been extinguished.

The light in Gehrman's eyes immediately faded.

After a brief silence, a tremendous buzzing sound suddenly erupted from the group of wizards watching the duel, which was surrounded by thirty-two stone pillars.

The sound started low, then quickly rose to a high pitch, until it reached a boiling point.

Like waves, it spreads outward in one wave after another.

This was the first climactic battle since the start of the ranked matches, with the fight reversing multiple times between the two extremes, and the final result was completely unexpected.

This includes top wizarding geniuses who occupy a stone pillar.

Their previously indifferent gazes now became sharp as knives.

They scrutinize, fear, and reassess this newly emerging threat.

Countless gazes converged on the white-haired figure dancing in the center of the arena, a demonic figure seemingly emerging from the pages of legend. Everyone was talking about the same name—"Dago!", "Dago Heca!"

This name, for the first time, officially entered the field of vision of countless wizards throughout the south.

A terrifying force capable of crushing the pride of the Thunder Tower with sheer violence.

The Jade Court's residence.

A faint, fresh scent of plants filled the air, but it couldn't mask the frozen atmosphere.

The silver-haired witch Emily, the young wizard Fink... several Emerald Court wizards who had interacted with Dargo a few times before stared blankly in the direction of the central battle group.

"It seems he really got a lot of good things from Prince Michael."

The silver-haired witch Emily broke the silence, speaking calmly, though a slight unease flickered in her eyes.

She was trying to explain this extraordinary power using the logic of exchanging benefits.

This is to soothe the wavering and unease in one's heart.

Fink snorted and a cold smile appeared on his face. He was about to say something to cover up his inappropriate moment of distraction.

Jealousy gnawed at his heart like a venomous snake, and he refused to admit that the person he had once looked down upon had now reached a height he could only look up to.

Suddenly, an invisible force surged from the void above, causing the young wizard Fink's expression to change drastically. His first instinct was to flee in another direction.

But under this force, he was ultimately pulled into the sky along with several other wizards from the Emerald Court, his face filled with "despair".

There was no incantation, no omen.

It was as if I was being lifted up like a puppet by an invisible giant hand.

His legs kicked wildly, and his robes fell awkwardly to the ground, tracing comical arcs in the air.

"Damn it, damn it..."

After Fink and the others "took off," a series of muttered curses immediately came from above.

The voice was clear and crisp, with a touch of childlike innocence, but the malice was like a biting winter wind, penetrating to the bone.

What was clearly a girl's voice, as pleasant as a silver bell, sounded like a nightmare to all the Emerald Court wizards below, sending chills down their spines.

It was a completely unreasonable and arbitrary force of control.

It is a wanton trampling and manipulation of the dignity of the weak.

Everyone subconsciously touched their cheeks, and then cast sympathetic glances at Donnie and the other unfortunate "bad boys".

They were glad that they were still just spectators, not the young lady's toy at this moment.

No one knows what caused this "Ash Witch Lady" to become so upset and need to vent her anger, but thankfully the targets of her anger are not them, and their faces are almost completely covered in graffiti.

Donnie's face, covered in turtle drawings, looked even more comical and pathetic at that moment.

He spun in mid-air, his eyes vacant, as if he had given up thinking.

"Once His Highness Michael obtains the inheritance and returns, all problems will be resolved."

The silver-haired witch whispered words of comfort to Ginya beside her.

Ginya, however, seemed not to hear her words. She simply stared quietly in the direction of the battle group surrounded by gray pillars in the distance, her eyes fixed on a certain "glorious" figure.

The silver-haired witch's eyes flickered slightly, then she quickly shook her head and said nothing more.

Some seeds, once planted, will take root and sprout in the instinct to admire strength.

.......

"Dagogogo, did you win?"

Amid the bustling crowd, a group of wizards with thorny spells stood frozen in place, each with a dazed expression.

As if petrified by a group of people, his pupils dilated and his mouth slightly open.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but it felt like something was blocking his throat, and he couldn't utter a single word.

All language seems pale and powerless at this moment.

The shock of reality shattered their linguistic center.

At this moment, the surrounding noise seemed far away from them. It was as if a huge bell was ringing repeatedly in each of their minds, making their brains buzz and almost unable to think.

The world's fundamental character has been overturned, and the old order is collapsing.

It was difficult for outsiders to comprehend the immense shock and impact these wizards of the Thorn Ring were experiencing at that moment.

As a generation of young people living under the "rule" of Leming Tagelman.

It was a long-term, subtle psychological suppression and domestication.

No one understood Gehrman's power better than they did.

That kind of power is textbook-level, an insurmountable wall.

Within the six great wizards, Gehrman was like a sun hanging above the heads of all young wizards—scorching, dazzling, untouchable, and only to be looked up to.

His brilliance was so dazzling that it stung the eyes of everyone who tried to catch up.

It makes people feel ashamed and despair.

There are too many legends about Gehrman to list, so many that we've become numb to them.

From the very first day of enrollment, this name was already widely known.

He is the epitome of genius, the embodiment of perfection.

They had all grown accustomed to Gehrman's "rule," and even Barker, the former top genius of the Thorn Ring, regarded Gehrman as "someone he would spend his whole life trying to catch up with."

That was Barker's obsession, and also the tragedy of the entire younger generation of the Thorn Ring.

But what do they see now?

The sun has fallen.

He was forcibly pulled down by a dark, ferocious, demonic hand from the depths of the earth.

Dago actually managed to defeat Gehrman in a head-on confrontation!

It wasn't a sneak attack, it wasn't a coincidence, it was a real, head-on confrontation.

It was the most brutal way to shatter the most exquisite idol.

At this moment, it felt as if something inside them was quietly shattering, and from those broken remnants of the past, something new was rapidly being born.

That was a new understanding of power, and a disenchantment of authority.

This feeling is difficult for wizards who are not among the top six to truly understand; even they themselves experience a strong sense of unreality.